


Lullaby

by IoanNemos



Series: Start Here [4]
Category: Uncharted
Genre: Epiphanies keep flying right over Sam's head, F/M, Gen, Language, Other, alcohol consumption, rated for:, references to violence, some drinking, some theft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-05
Updated: 2017-03-05
Packaged: 2018-09-28 10:18:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10091966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IoanNemos/pseuds/IoanNemos
Summary: "When is a monster not a monster? / Oh, when you love it. / Oh, when you used to sing it to sleep."Caitlyn Siehl, "Start Here"Some things are too close to be seen clearly.





	

Nathan emerges from the collapsing building’s dust-cloud with the unfocused gaze of the concussed, his fingernails broken when he reaches for you. “Hey, c’mon,” he says as he pulls you up, voice hoarse, and when he coughs it ends in the pained whine that tells you he will, at best, be badly bruised. He half-carries you to the car, pours your half-conscious body into the passenger seat, and beelines for Victor.

Victor rants a little, but can’t stay angry at Nathan as he patches you up. Never has been able to. A rare thing the two of you have in common.

You only notice that some of the blood isn’t his when Victor asks later, faux casually, “So, uh, how many guys were in there?”

 

 

 

“Nobody’s been bothering you?”

“No way, Sam.” He leans across the table, eyes dancing in amusement, voice lowering. “The Brazil thing’s been blown _way_ out of proportion. Everybody in here thinks I’ve killed, like, a hundred people. It’s _hilarious_. This is gonna be the easiest six month stint ever.”

 

“Oh yeah, ‘hilarious’ is definitely the word I’d use,” Victor grumbles when you update him.

“Hey, if it means they leave him alone--”

“Oh, I ain’t looking a gift horse,” Victor interrupts. “But… He’s seventeen, Sam, and they think it’s believable?”

The number hadn’t phased you when you’d heard it. “Well, they’re all teens,” you say, waving away his concerns like Nathan had waved away yours. “Y’know, young and stupid.”

Victor mutters something under his breath.

 

 

 

Victor acts like it’s ignorance, like you don’t know your lives are abnormal. Like you’re just blissfully cavorting through life, unaware that you and your brother wouldn’t know normal if it cavorted by going the opposite way.

He’s wrong. You know your lives are fucked up. It just doesn’t _matter_.

A search like this is a lifetime commitment, the kind a normal person could never make. Normal people have normal jobs, office hours and mortgages and car payments and only God knows what else. Lawns to mow and business meetings to attend.

Normal people rent houses and buy stuff and rarely leave the circle they’re born into. Normal people can’t read ancient languages or pick locks or climb buildings or do much more than put a bandage on a papercut. Normal people pay attention to signs like ‘Closed’ and ‘Employees Only’ and ‘Do Not Touch.’

You and Nathan, on the other hand-- you know how to fight, how to negotiate, how to investigate, how to scavenge for food and hotwire a car and get into buildings that are trying to keep you out.

You and Nathan aren’t normal. How could you be? To do this, you need to be _special_.

 

 

 

“So, Sam…”

You brace yourself, then make yourself relax. It’s Christmas. Your sister-in-law wouldn’t bring up the tough stuff around the holidays. Right? “So, Elena.”

Elena hesitates a moment, tapping a finger on the stem of her wine glass. “I got the short version of when Nate and Sully met, but, um, if you don’t mind my asking-- where were you?”

“Prison,” you inform her blithely. “Two years for theft. Got out in a year and a half for good behavior.”

“Right,” she replies, nodding slowly. “Nate was-- fifteen?”

“Yeah. I missed a lot in those eighteen months. He tracked down and got Sir Francis’ ring, picked out his first gun--”

“His first _gun?_ ” Elena interrupts, and suddenly you wonder what she got for her sixteenth birthday.

“Uh. Yeah. Vic-- Sully helped him pick it out. For his birthday.” Trying to redirect her indignation like that is a cheap tactic, and it’s clear from her expression that it doesn’t quite work.

“His birthday present,” she repeats, rubbing a hand along her temple. “God help me.”

 

 

 

Victor comes into the room with the kind of expression you associate with an irretrievable operation. “Whoa, what happened?”

“Oh, everything went great,” Victor says, so acidic and dour you think he’s being sarcastic at first. “Higgins loved it, wants the rest of ‘em by the end of the week.”

You breathe again. “Then why the long face?”

Victor pulls a beer from the fridge, uncaps it, takes a long swig, and settles into a chair. “Your brother is going to be the death of me.”

“What’d he do now?”

“He didn’t wait in the goddamn car, that’s what! He followed me to the meeting! Climbed the building it was in, watched us through the skylight-- It’s a miracle he didn’t fall off the roof.”

“You didn’t see him?”

“No, of course I didn’t see him--”

You grin. “Man, that kid gets better at tailing every day.” Victor gives you a dirty look. “What? You pissed you didn’t see him?”

Victor shakes his head slowly. “Samuel, I think there’s something very wrong with your priorities.”

 

 

 

You’re waiting for Nathan outside the store bathroom when a teenager walks by pushing a cart. Inside it is wrapping paper and a tray of cupcakes. A younger boy runs up holding a stack of red party hats. “I like these ones!” he announces. “Can I get these ones?”

“Sure thing, buddy,” says the teenager, smiling down at him. “It’s your party.” The younger boy beams and puts the hats in the cart. They move on, the younger boy chattering and the teenager responding.

“All clear?” Nathan asks. When you turn, he eases out of the bathroom in a new, red shirt. “What? Did I miss a tag?”

“Nah, bro,” you manage, forcing a smile. “Is that the one you want? Where’s the blue one?”

Nathan shrugs. “I like this one better. Can I get this one, Sam?”

The sick feeling stays in your stomach for a while, even after the two of you make it out of the store without being stopped. But with enough time and concentration, you can forget just about anything.

**Author's Note:**

> I've been working on this thing since I finished 'Another Fire.' Finally, it is done (though how it ended up in second person I'm still not sure). There is one more story planned for this series; hopefully the wait for that one won't be as long.
> 
> That whistling sound you hear are all the epiphanies that Samuel Drake has either missed or outright ignored. I suspect there are a lot of them.


End file.
